“It wasn't like that, darlin'." [Darcy] said quickly. "I swear on my mother's soul it wasn't!"Bronte bit her lip, trying not to smile. "Your mother is still living, is she not?"Darcy grinned sheepishly. "Yes, but…just the same.”

“(Darcy) "Why do you suppose she decided to come back…after all this time, I mean?"(Nick) "The barmaid?""Bronte""If I were to hazard a guess, I would suppose her mother finally convinced her she was on her deathbed.""I suppose, but since she's been on her deathbed for the past ten years that I know of. I'm thinking Bronte probably wouldn't fall for it."”

“Has she glanced you way yet?"Twice," Nick said on a note of satisfaction.Meaning?"Nick glanced at him. "She's not completely disinterested."I see Moreland. That makes it an even half dozen hanging out for a rich wife. Four looking for their second. Rossman, the old satyr, certainly isn't likely to be much competition. What in the hell does he think he's doing anyway? He must be sixty."Basking, I should think. She hasn't given him the cold shoulder yet," Nick responded coolly.”

“How do I know you'll keep your word?" asked Coraline."I swear it," said the other mother. "I swear it on my own mother's grave.""Does she have a grave?" asked Coraline."Oh yes," said the other mother. "I put her in there myself. And when I found her trying to crawl out, I put her back.”

“You will surely smile with me when I say, 'Thank God one can still recognise self-pity as such and not give it any greater dignity than just that.”

“A smile crept to her lips. “What does the ‘F’ stand for?” she asked. He blinked a moment in confusion, and then recalled the nameplate on his desk: Hon. F. Darcy. “What do you think it stands for?” he countered. “Do you really have any doubt what I think it stands for?” she said, smirking. “Contrary to popular belief, my mother did not name me F*cker. It’s Fitzwilliam.”

“You’re the reason that my life wound up being worth anything angel, and I swear to you that I’ll move Heaven and Earth to be worthy of you, always.”